I wrote something I have never written before.
Not a technical paper. Not a legal argument. Not a rebuttal.
A confession.
Christian Ager-Hanssen showed images of a computer in his office remotely accessing my hard drive. Not my machine. His. Reaching into what I believed was sealed.
That should have been enough. It was enough.
But I did not accept what it meant. Not immediately. Not with the urgency it demanded. Because accepting it meant admitting something I was not ready to admit:
I had failed.
Not through ignorance. Through pride.
I knew insider threats. I could lecture on them. I could explain exactly how trust becomes the channel of intrusion. And when it happened to me, I still hesitated. I still tried to reason my way around the obvious. I still believed I was the kind of man to whom this could not happen unnoticed.
That belief was wrong.
Worse — I did not pick up the phone. There were people who had stood by me for years. People whose judgment I trusted. People who would have told me what I could not tell myself. I did not call them. I thought I should understand it first. I thought I should carry it alone.
That was not discipline. That was vanity.
This piece is the beginning of something longer. A book. But it starts here, with the hardest part — the part that is about me, not about what was done to me.
New on my Substack.
https://singulargrit.substack.com/p/the-phone-i-did-not-pick-up
When I write this book, everything goes in.
The files. The communications. The records. Not selected. Not curated. Not arranged to make me look like something I was not.
I was proud. I was slow. I was wrong about my own judgment. I failed to see what was in front of me because seeing it meant admitting something I did not want to admit. I failed to call the people who would have told me what I could not tell myself.
That is the truth. And if I write a book that hides it, I have written nothing worth reading.
So it will all be there. What others did. What I did. What I failed to do. The hubris. The emotion. The delay. The cost.
I will not ask anyone to trust a filtered version of events. The whole thing goes on the table.
That is the only way this is worth doing.
S. Tominaga, AKA CSW
Apr. 8, 2026
https://x.com/i/status/2041669006231531734
https://t.me/S_Tominaga/5261
Not a technical paper. Not a legal argument. Not a rebuttal.
A confession.
Christian Ager-Hanssen showed images of a computer in his office remotely accessing my hard drive. Not my machine. His. Reaching into what I believed was sealed.
That should have been enough. It was enough.
But I did not accept what it meant. Not immediately. Not with the urgency it demanded. Because accepting it meant admitting something I was not ready to admit:
I had failed.
Not through ignorance. Through pride.
I knew insider threats. I could lecture on them. I could explain exactly how trust becomes the channel of intrusion. And when it happened to me, I still hesitated. I still tried to reason my way around the obvious. I still believed I was the kind of man to whom this could not happen unnoticed.
That belief was wrong.
Worse — I did not pick up the phone. There were people who had stood by me for years. People whose judgment I trusted. People who would have told me what I could not tell myself. I did not call them. I thought I should understand it first. I thought I should carry it alone.
That was not discipline. That was vanity.
This piece is the beginning of something longer. A book. But it starts here, with the hardest part — the part that is about me, not about what was done to me.
New on my Substack.
https://singulargrit.substack.com/p/the-phone-i-did-not-pick-up
When I write this book, everything goes in.
The files. The communications. The records. Not selected. Not curated. Not arranged to make me look like something I was not.
I was proud. I was slow. I was wrong about my own judgment. I failed to see what was in front of me because seeing it meant admitting something I did not want to admit. I failed to call the people who would have told me what I could not tell myself.
That is the truth. And if I write a book that hides it, I have written nothing worth reading.
So it will all be there. What others did. What I did. What I failed to do. The hubris. The emotion. The delay. The cost.
I will not ask anyone to trust a filtered version of events. The whole thing goes on the table.
That is the only way this is worth doing.
S. Tominaga, AKA CSW
Apr. 8, 2026
https://x.com/i/status/2041669006231531734
https://t.me/S_Tominaga/5261
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